


Nyakee Nago Wadda

by Arthórien (AmberDread)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Bit Dark, Child Neglect, Gen, I don't know what the point of this is or why I even wrote it, Near Death Experiences, No Ship, POV First Person, POV Rey (Star Wars), Sad with happy ending, Tags Are Hard, life in the system, no beta we die like men, not a shipping fic, the system sucks balls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26802106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberDread/pseuds/Arth%C3%B3rien
Summary: Rey's early life in a modern AUViolence and child neglect, but happy ending.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Nyakee Nago Wadda

**Author's Note:**

> Written in first person POV

I died once. 

Ironically it turned out to be my salvation.

When I was three years old, my parents left me at a soft play area in a shopping centre and never returned to pick me up. They were never traced and my original identity was never discovered. 

All I had was a name.

Rey.

I bounced around foster homes for a while until I was placed with a man named Unkar Plutt. Why social services thought he was suitable to foster, I will never know. It probably had something to do with cost cutting and a system that was overwhelmed.

Still, whoever’s decision it was, it was a poor one and I suffered for it.

Unkar Plutt was a large, greasy, monster of a man who worked me like a dog and fed me less than one.

He dealt in scrap and other less than savoury things that I wasn’t supposed to know about. He used me to pick through his yard, my small body and little hands able to find and reach things that his other ‘employees’ couldn’t.

At night I dreamt of freedom, or somewhere green and far away, perhaps an island in a deep blue sea where Plutt could never find me again.

The area we lived in was run down and disaffected, a rough estate where everyone had their own problems and no time to be concerned over the welfare of a scrawny urchin no one wanted.

The teachers at the school I sometimes attended were apathetic, just going through the motions and getting through the day. They were more concerned with managing the loud disruptive children, rather than one that did her best to be invisible.

Although in theory Plutt should have had six monthly visits to check on my welfare, I only remember one. The man who came only stayed for five minutes, pretty much just observing that I was still alive before he left without a backwards glance. 

That day it felt like my sentence had been passed officially, I was there to stay.

I survived, barely. 

Until the day I died.

Plutt had been drinking. It often started that way, but this day he had been let down by an associate, lost money on a game and I had knocked over and broken his CD player. It probably could have been fixed, but he didn’t wait to examine it.

I ran, recognising the expression in his small piggy eyes, the hint of the punishment to come. But I was tired and clumsy, hungry, and in my fear I missed my footing and fell down the two steps that led from the back door into the yard.

I was only scraped and bruised, but before I could scramble up, Plutt was on me. And this time, I knew it was different, this time a sixth sense told me that he wouldn’t stop.

Despite knowing it was futile, I screamed as much as I could before he shut me up. As usual the neighbours who heard just shut their windows or turned up their TVs.

If it were possible, my noise made Plutt even more angry. His meaty fists redoubled their efforts on my face and I was only able to gurgle as blood filled my mouth, as I tried not to breathe in it.

Things went dark after that.

For once in my life, luck was on my side. As I lay there dying, with Plutt still yelling obscenities at my broken body, a police officer who happened to be walking by the fence decided to check the noise out.

He also happened to be carrying a taser.

I was dead for perhaps three minutes. I saw no light, no flashback of my life, just darkness and silence.

I almost didn’t want to wake up, but I am glad I did.

The police officer worked on me as he waited for the ambulance to get there, while Plutt twitched on the floor with the electrodes attached to his chest.

Other officers arrived before the paramedics, securing Plutt and dragging him away from me while another officer took over from the first.

By the time the ambulance got there, my heart had restarted and I was breathing again, if with great difficulty. 

The first officer who had saved me stayed with me in the ambulance, holding my hand as the paramedics worked to drain my lungs and assess the damage.

I was in hospital for five months. 

Once I was out of the ICU I was placed in the children's ward, which backed onto a hospital garden. 

My bed was right next to the window and I could watch the sky and the wind as it moved the trees, the birds as they fed at a feeding station.

Despite the pain of recovery and healing, I loved every minute of it. The hospital staff were kind and friendly, I was fed well and often, and slept warm and safe. There were even other children to talk to.

The officer who first came to my aid, visited as soon as I was out of the ICU. He had a kind face and brought me chocolate and a toy rabbit with the softest fur I had ever felt.

He introduced himself as Wedge, which I thought was a funny name, and he visited me often, teaching me to play backgammon and draughts.

Other’s came to visit me, but they weren’t as nice and they had grave expressions and many questions. I hated talking to them, they made me think about Plutt and their questions always left me afraid that I would be sent back to him.

Whenever they left one of the nurses would bring me a cup of sweet tea and a piece of cake and I would cuddle my bunny, whom I had named after Wedge.

One day, Wedge arrived with another police officer. She was so pretty and I was immediately shy until Wedge told me she was called Hera, and she had been there that day too and had been the one to resuscitate me.

They both looked so happy as they sat down and told me that Unkar Plutt had been sent to jail and wouldn’t be able to hurt me again.

I cried till I couldn’t breathe. The relief almost overwhelming.

Hera sat on the bed and cuddled me till I quieted as Wedge held one of my hands. They told me about a lady they knew, someone kind who was looking for a child to take care of.

And that is how I met my mother, Maz.

Wedge and Hera knew Maz because her neighbours had complained to the police about ‘strange goings on’ at her home. 

When they investigated she invited them in for tea and they became friends. It turned out Maz was a practising witch, which her neighbours did not care for, but as no crimes were being committed, nothing happened to her. 

It is possible strings were pulled, to get me placed with her so quickly.

Whomever pulled them, I will be eternally grateful to them.

The day I left hospital, was the day I moved in to ‘The Castle’ as Maz’s house was called.

Maz was tiny and ancient looking but vital and sharp as a tack. She had the kindest, wisest face with glasses so thick they made her eyes seem huge.

And there was a feeling about her, at the time I didn’t know the word aura, but my senses told me she was safe and kind and would protect me.

And she did. 

I never wanted for anything again and after six months, she officially adopted me and I took her surname. 

The first time I wrote my name down as Rey Nymeve Kanata, I cried literal tears of joy.

I was home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Another story that I'm not sure what the point of it was or why I wrote it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> If you read this far *awkward wave* hello 0_0


End file.
